Little Soldier Boy
by Okami No Yume
Summary: He soothed the tears of a child. He steered a young man away from a life of crime. However, he could not save his only son. One-shot, Iroh-centric.


**Little Soldier Boy**

An Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfiction.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. It belongs to Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino, and Nickelodeon. This is my third Avatar fic.

Summary: He soothed the tears of a child. He steered a young man away from a life of crime. However, he could not save his only son. One-shot, Iroh-centric.

A/N: A liuqin is an Asian stringed instrument.

_**OOOOOOOOOooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

_"Leaves from the vine, falling so slow._

_Like fragile, tiny shells,  
_

_Drifting in the foam.  
_

_Little soldier boy, come marching home.  
_

_Brave soldier boy, comes marching home…"_

It was a song that he'd sung as a lullaby to his son, when he was little, passed down from his own mother, Ilah, who'd had a lovely voice. Although his voice was not as smooth, and he sang out of tune, it nevertheless had always put Lu Ten to sleep whenever he'd had nightmares, and would call for his father in the night.

Tears swelled up in the old firebender's eyes as he wept; even after all these years, his heart was still broken. The loss of his only child, and his only son, was a pain that had never left him. His son's ashes were stored next to that of his dear wife, who'd passed away from a sudden illness when Lu Ten was barely three. Before he'd been exiled from the Fire Nation, Iroh had often visited their graves, and prayed for their spirits, and took comfort in the fact that someday, he would join them, and be reunited with his family.

He quietly reflected on the man he'd once been. There was a time when he'd been more ruthless, more unforgiving, and more cruel, hardened by many battles. He'd brought honor to his family with every hard-won victory. He was a great firebender, overshadowing his younger brother, Ozai.

Over time, he'd gained a formidable reputation, until finally the grand title "The Dragon of the West" was bestowed upon him by his family, and spoken with fear and awe by his enemies. Being declared a Dragon was the highest rank in firebending one could attain; it proved that you were a true master of the art.

As a boy, he'd had a kind heart with a curious nature, but his taciturn father, the Fire Lord Azulon, had sternly lectured him that there was no room for kindness nor compassion in the Fire Nation; such qualities were not acceptable in a Prince, and would therefore not be tolerated. There was no room for softness. Only the hard, and only the strong survived.

However, his mother did her best to nurture her son Iroh in everything he was interested in. She'd loved tea, and had taught him how to play Pai Sho, and how to play the liuqin. Thanks to her, the kindness in Iroh had not been entirely snuffed out.

After his great failure at Ba Sing Se, and the death of his son, Iroh became a changed man, and his perceptions of the world changed. He thought of the lives he had taken, and the blood he had shed, all in the name of his country, along with the loss of so many of his comrades. He felt a thousand regrets weigh heavily on his heart, but the heaviest being the loss of Lu Ten.

Things would have been so different if Lu Ten had still lived; he would have been the Lord of the Fire Nation, and Lu Ten would be married, and he would have given him grandchildren. Iroh smiled bittersweetly, thinking of what could have been. It had taken Lu Ten's death for him to see the error of his ways. That the path of war was a path of destruction, that only brought suffering rather than glory in its wake.

When Zuko had been forced into exile, Iroh saw an opportunity open up for him, to atone for his past sins. He'd chosen to accompany Zuko in the hopes of guiding him down the right path. He would take the young firebender under his wing, and teach him everything he knew, and pass on his wisdom and experience. As the time had passed, and he took on the role of mentor, he'd grown to love Zuko more like a son than a nephew. It pained him that Zuko was so desperate to jump through so many hoops to win his father's love and approval, knowing that it was all in vain, and he was sickened that Ozai knew this, and would treat his son like a puppet, pulling his strings, knowing his love-if he had any in that blackened husk he called a heart of his-was dangled just out of his son's reach, like a carrot. Of course, his younger sister, Azula, who'd been a firebending prodigy at the age of six, and had clearly inherited the family's cruelty streak, and was a master of manipulation, just like her father, had always outshined him.

Iroh truly worried for Zuko. He was so twisted up inside with bitterness, anger, and rage. He feared that despite his best efforts, his headstrong nephew wouldn't listen to him, no matter what. He'd been tenacious in his hunt for the Avatar, and he was bound and determined to reclaim his throne, come hell or highwater.

Sighing, the old man felt his shoulders droop as the full weight of his responsibilities fell upon him. He wouldn't give up on Zuko, and would do everything in his power to get through to him, no matter what it took. Zuko still had much to learn, and yet, he had many qualities in him that Iroh recognized that would make him a great leader. He was compassionate, caring, loyal, intelligent, and no matter what, he never backed down. But he was so single-minded that he couldn't see beyond the scope of what he wanted. He did not seem to realize that if he captured the Avatar and gave him to his father, it would surely mean the world's doom.

He thought of the day's events. He'd given a piece of friendly advice to a shopkeeper. He'd soothed the tears of a child with a lullaby he'd once sang his own son to sleep with. He'd steered a young mugger away from a life of crime, and as a result, had steered him onto a far more constructive path.

However, he'd failed to help his son, when he'd fallen in battle. He'd failed and dishonored his country when he'd lost the siege at Ba Sing Se, and was declared a disgrace to his country.

Iroh looked up to see that the two incense sticks he'd placed in the tiny makeshift shrine for his son had burned down, and the sun had nearly sunk below the horizon. It was time to go.

The old firebender bowed his head, closed his eyes in prayer. In a whisper as he clasped his hands together, he spoke: "Please, Spirits, hear me. I have failed much in my life. I beg of you, do not let me fail Zuko. He is all I have left."

And with that, Iroh quietly packed away the shrine with great care, stood up, and made his way home, back to the teashop, and back to Zuko.

_Fin_

_**OOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOOOO**_

A/N: I'd been wanting to do this fic for a long time. Tales of Ba Sing Se is one of my favorite Avatar episodes, and the most touching and poignant tale was The Tale of Iroh. It moved me to tears, and I wanted to expand on that scene, since the seed of this idea was planted. I hope I did Iroh justice, since he's one of my favorite characters. This fic didn't quite turn out the way I expected, but I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.

Also, this fic is meant to be an homage to Mako Iwamatsu, who sadly passed away from esophageal cancer in 2006. I figured I would do my best to honor an actor who helped bring such a warm, endearing, loveable character to life. I know that Mako's soul is at peace, and he no longer suffers, however, he is deeply missed.

Thank you once again for reading. I hope my little tribute does his memory justice.


End file.
